


I Mean, Like, Genuinely Afraid

by poselikeateam



Series: The Witcher - Songfics and Song-Inspired [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Analysis, Character Turned Into Vampire, Denial of Feelings, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Heavy Angst, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Anxiety, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampire Jaskier | Dandelion, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: When Geralt ducks into a cave to escape the stifling heat and humidity of a sweltering summer day, the last thing he expects to come across is his bard. There's no mistaking it, though: that's Jaskier's voice, singing from somewhere deep within the cave. Something isn't quite right.(A songfic for Lovecraft in Brooklyn by The Mountain Goats. CW for mentions of self-harm and suicidal ideation.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher - Songfics and Song-Inspired [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778191
Comments: 14
Kudos: 731
Collections: Geralt is Sorry, The Witcher Alternate Universes





	I Mean, Like, Genuinely Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW what's up lads, this one's a doozy. 
> 
> I was listening to Lovecraft in Brooklyn and the line _Woke up afraid of my own shadow, I mean, like, genuinely afraid,_ got stuck in my head and this sort of happened. I thought, okay, what if instead of the usual songfic where Jaskier's reasoning(s) for his lyrics are written in his POV between each line, Geralt is listening to it and giving his own perspective on what they _might_ mean? Then I made it really sad. Then I fixed it.
> 
> Eventually I'll go back to writing fun things. I have one in the works, I just don't want to start uploading til it's finished.
> 
> Also I should add that I left out the parts of the song that didn't fit the universe, and there were some lines that did fit except for one or two things so I changed them. "Pavement" to "road now", "Rhode Island" to "Lettenhove", and "switchblade" to "small blade", as far as I can remember.

Geralt had hoped against hope that he would see Jaskier again. He knows that nothing is certain in the life of a witcher, except that it will end violently. He knows that nothing is permanent except for the scars. He knows that he doesn’t deserve to see the other man again, after everything he’d said and done, after the way he’d acted for so long, never treating Jaskier the way he deserved. He knows, he knows, he _knows_. 

For once, knowing does not stop his traitor of a heart from hoping.

The thing is, he has spent a lot of time thinking about how he would meet Jaskier again, what he would do, what he would say. He’d been under the assumption that if they were to meet again, it would be either on the road, or in some backwater tavern. He imagined Jaskier singing, or laughing, or surrounded by people. 

At least he got the singing part right.

It’s a sweltering summer day, the air suffused with the kind of stifling humidity that is going to give in and turn to hot, heavy rain at any moment. Geralt doesn’t want to get stuck in the rain, and he doesn’t want to deal with this oppressive heat. Thus, when he passes a cave deep in the woods, he almost breathes a sigh of relief. 

There could be monsters, but he isn’t worried about that. He is, after all, a witcher. So, keeping eyes and ears open, he slowly creeps into the cave. He leaves Roach just at the entrance, inside enough that she can escape the heat but close enough to the cave’s mouth that she can escape if something foul comes rushing at her. If it’s safe, he’ll lead her further in, give her a reprieve from the terrible weather outside.

At first, he thinks he’s imagining it. As he makes his way further into the cave, he starts hearing little bits of music. A lute being strummed, and Jaskier’s voice singing along. 

Fuck, he misses the man so much. He hasn’t heard anything from or about him in months, and Geralt’s trying so hard not to think about it that it’s all that’s on his mind, most days. It’s alarming, sort of, that he misses Jaskier so much that he’s hearing his voice. 

“ _It's going to be too hot to breathe today, but everybody's out here on the streets,_ ” sings the voice that he may or may not be imagining. It’s coming from deeper in the cave, if it exists at all, and its lyrics only further convince Geralt that it’s all in his head. After all, the weather had been on his mind, and it isn’t a stretch to imagine Jaskier being so annoyed by the heat and humidity outside that simple complaining wouldn’t be enough — no, of course he’d be dramatic enough to write a song about how terrible the weather is, Geralt thinks with a sort of melancholy fondness.

“ _Companionship is where you find it, so I’ll take what I can get,_ ” Jaskier sings. Geralt is moving forward slowly. If it’s not in his head, it’s probably a monster, prying his thoughts from his mind in an effort to lure him deeper into the cave. He draws his silver sword as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert the potential monster to the fact that he is aware of what it’s trying to do. 

He feels almost like it’s baiting him. It’s something he’s thought about before, after all. Jaskier is a very social creature, but impossible to tie down to one place. He takes people into his bed almost indiscriminately — of course, everyone has a type, but his seems very broad. Geralt knows, though, that Jaskier is a romantic at heart. He falls in love so easily it’s almost comical, waxes poetic about how this countess or that wench could be _the one_ , but finding _the one_ means _settling down_ , and Jaskier would _never_. Geralt has always wondered if the reason Jaskier stays with him is simply that Geralt is the only person who can provide the comfort and familiarity of a lasting companion, as well as feed his insatiable wanderlust. 

It isn’t just that, though. He also thinks, when he is feeling particularly low, that Jaskier might think that way about _him_. Geralt hates pity, doesn’t ever want to be pitied. He is what he is, he has survived what he has survived and seen what he has seen and done what he has done. His life is his life and there is no changing any of it, and even if there were, what would be the point? Sure, he could sell his swords, settle in a cabin in the woods, live a long, solitary life — but why? Why give up what he knows? And, he had learned very early on, there is no real companionship for a witcher. Even if he were to settle down, he would settle down alone. Sometimes the sneering and swearing that humans throw his way is the only kind of human interaction he gets, and the part of him that is still human craves it, if only because it means that in some capacity he is not alone. 

So, having Jaskier around had always been too good to be true. He wonders if Jaskier thinks that Geralt keeps him around because any companionship is companionship. He wonders if Jaskier sticks around because he thinks that Geralt needs him. He wonders if the bard stays with him out of pity, because where others see a _freak_ and a _mutant_ Jaskier has always seen a _man_ , has always seen _Geralt_ , and he knows that Jaskier does not want him to have to be alone.

“ _I cast my gaze toward the road now, too many blood stains on the ground,_ ” sings the voice. If it is Jaskier, what has he seen, that would affect him like this? He sounds some terrible mix of melancholy and frantic, halfway to a panic attack. The intensity makes Geralt’s own slow heart rate pick up just a little, and he hates it. 

Is it because of current events? Nilfgaard has been moving north, everyone knows war is brewing. He’s never had so many necrophage contracts in his life, with all of the bodies left in villages and battlefields and roads. Perhaps the bard came across the aftermath of a skirmish, or a raided village with no survivors, or a bandit attack, or a monster nest. 

Is it about the things he’s seen traveling with Geralt? Blood flows where he walks, death trailing him like a dark cloud. It is the life that was thrust upon him. It was not a choice for him, but it was a choice for Jaskier. Why would the bard follow him for so long, through so much? Geralt has wondered this again, and again, and _again_ , but never once been able to come up with a suitable answer. 

_“Lettenhove drops into the ocean, no place to call home anymore…”_

Either Geralt is only hearing parts of the song, or it hasn’t fully been written yet. He knows Jaskier’s songwriting process now as intimately as he knows his own routine for caring for his swords. Sometimes certain words and phrases will come into his mind without warning and make enough of an impact that they need to be written down. Sometimes he can piece them together enough that he just needs to find a way to fill in the blanks. Sometimes he’ll have a general feeling that is too strong to ignore and needs a song for him to process it. In all of these cases, he will get out his lute, and workshop it until he has a decently workable song, then edits from there.

Geralt knows that Jaskier is from Lettenhove, is technically a viscount. He knows that Jaskier didn’t want that life for himself, and that unlike most nobles his parents didn’t really mind so long as the title stayed within the family when Jaskier inevitably passed it off. He knows that his parents care for him, that aside from Oxenfurt it’s the closest thing to a home that Jaskier has if only for the fond memories he has of the place. 

He also knows that Lettenhove has not dropped into the ocean, so this is apparently a metaphor. Geralt is no poet, and he is certainly no literary analyst, but when traveling with someone like Jaskier it’s inevitable that he’s going to pick up some amount of skill in that particular field. He thinks that perhaps this is a metaphor for unwanted change? Like the phrase, _the ground swept out from under one’s feet_ , it has not literally happened, but the feeling is there. Is this to do with the war as well? Or is it something else? Did he fight with his parents? Is he no longer welcome in their home?

Geralt doesn’t honestly know why he’s trying to analyse this song so deeply. It’s never been something he’s been interested in, never been useful, and certainly never been his strong suit. Lyrical analysis requires a certain level of emotional competence that he is, frankly, lacking. He’s not an idiot, he knows that while witchers do feel, he’s not the best at making sense of whatever it is he’s feeling. And witchers feel _differently_ than humans. It’s sort of buried, muted. Jaskier’s emotions are always at the forefront, he wears them on his sleeve like the latest fashions. Geralt has to dig for his feelings unless they are particularly strong, and since it doesn’t help him fight monsters, he doesn’t usually bother. And that means that when he does have a particularly strong feeling that he cannot ignore, he has a bit of difficulty identifying and dealing with it.

Well, that’s an understatement. The fact of the matter is he is as about as in tune with his own emotions as a hunk of clay. So for him to be trying to analyse the feelings of someone else through their music, well, he’s clearly feeling a lot of something.

Is it guilt? Partly, yes. He hurt Jaskier, drove him away. And the world is so much more dangerous now than it was when they’d met. If they had never met then perhaps Jaskier would have outgrown his wanderlust and would be somewhere safe in a court. Or, perhaps that court would have been burned to the ground already. But maybe he would have learned to defend himself if he’d never had Geralt to rely on, and so now that the world is falling apart into chaos and slaughter, he would be able to keep himself safe. Maybe if Geralt had never driven him away, he wouldn’t have to worry about whether Jaskier was safe or not.

And perhaps that’s the crux of it. He worries about Jaskier’s safety. He has always worried about Jaskier’s safety. Why? He’d become attached. Jaskier had been… annoying, and just the sort of interesting that scared Geralt. He had become used to his routine, to his solitude. It wasn’t fun, but it was survival, and if he only survived — if he only stayed around people long enough to do his job and get the fuck out, then no one would have to get hurt. _He_ wouldn’t have to get hurt, wouldn’t have to be the one hurting others. 

Jaskier, though? He didn’t give a fuck about any of that from the beginning. He saw right through Geralt’s gruff demeanor and delusions of lone-wolf solitude and saw someone who needed a friend. He saw the Butcher of fucking Blaviken and— that’s the thing, he _never_ saw the Butcher of Blaviken because he only saw _Geralt_. He only saw a person with an unfortunate reputation who needed a bit of help with it and without a second thought he packed up everything and dedicated his fucking life to it. 

Jaskier has never been afraid of him. The handful of times the bard has carried the scent of fear because of him, it was when Geralt was hurt, when Jaskier didn’t yet realise just how quickly he heals. When Jaskier calls him _witcher_ , there’s no bite to it, none of the vitriol that he’s used to when humans use his title on him. It’s playful, or casual, like when someone calls him _bard_. It’s just what he _is_ , and there’s no need to judge him for it.

No one has ever treated him that way. Fuck, he’s known _other witchers_ who hate witchers more than Jaskier does. But Jaskier has always been different. Much like Geralt, he sees people for what they _do_ , not what they _are_. Jaskier has nonhuman friends that he treats no differently from the human ones — and honestly, come to think of it, Jaskier barely has human friends, despite being human himself.

Geralt is pulled from his thoughts by Jaskier’s voice once again, by another line of this song that is filled with strange emotions that Geralt is strangely desperate to place.

_“Head outside most every day to try to keep the wolves away. Imagine nice things I might say if company should come…”_

Again, Geralt is no lyrical analyst, so metaphor is not his forte. Still, he knows that Jaskier loves that particular literary device, is — in the bard’s own words — _a slut for metaphor_ , so he can’t help but think about what this might mean. 

He wonders if it is about him, honestly. Does Jaskier travel more, stay in one place for shorter and shorter amounts of time in the hopes that he and Geralt will not cross paths? He is, after all, the White Wolf of Kaer Morhen. How many times has Jaskier referred to him as such? How many times has the bard simply addressed him as _Wolf_? 

And if the previous line about companionship is indeed about him, then perhaps he is the ‘company’ mentioned in this line. Perhaps Jaskier wonders what he would say to Geralt should they meet again. If that’s the case, then he thinks Geralt meant the horrible things he’d said. _Nice things I might say_ would imply that he wouldn’t be angry at Geralt, unless the line is ironic.

He should be angry. Geralt hopes that he is angry. Geralt was a complete and utter bastard and Jaskier didn’t deserve it. He hopes to whatever Gods may or may not actually exist that Jaskier knows that, knows that he is worth more than Geralt ever treated him.

Of course, just because Jaskier _is_ a big fan of metaphor, doesn’t mean that this isn’t literal as well. Perhaps he pissed off some lord, as he is wont to do, or perhaps he is hiding from the soldiers and bandits prowling around outside. If he was the only one in this cave when he arrived, he would only have to make sure that nothing else tries to move in until it is time for him to move out. There are ways to keep creatures like wolves from encroaching on his current dwelling. 

And Jaskier is so very social. If he is living in a cave (which is very unlike him, but Geralt is all too aware that sometimes, needs must) then he must be desperate for human companionship. If someone were to come here, as company rather than enemy, then Jaskier would be an immaculate host even in a cave such as this. He would spend his time alone here thinking about all the ways he could entertain a guest, the things he would say if one friend or another were to come across him. 

Geralt realises with a start that he knows Jaskier all too well.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. It makes perfect sense — all the time he’d spent pushing Jaskier away, but not actually leaving him behind. All the time he’d spent worrying over the bard’s safety, protecting him, complaining about him, caring for him, letting Jaskier care for _him_. The things he’d put up with, the things he’d told himself he was putting up with but secretly enjoyed. The things he tried to keep himself from enjoying, from getting used to. The way he latched on to Yennefer because she felt _safe_ , with all her power and none of the trappings of mortality. The anger he always felt when Jaskier flirted with people, the way Geralt defended him from cuckolded spouses _anyway_... 

Geralt _loves_ him.

He tried so hard to keep himself from having any sort of feelings or attachment, and it was all for naught. And the more he thinks about it, the more he realises that it makes perfect sense. How could he _not_ love someone like Jaskier? How could he not love the only person to treat him with kindness and respect and caring, to see his eyes and not flinch away, to not be cowed by his grunts and growls, to joke with him like one of Geralt’s own brothers despite his human fragility, to get to know him perhaps even better than Geralt has ever known himself? It isn’t so much that he let himself fall in love, really, as it was simply inevitable, like the way thunder comes after lightning, fire after a spark on dry brush. 

And Geralt is no fool (well, he is, but not in this way). He knows that he’s a self-sabotaging moron. He’s so afraid of losing good things that he pushes them away, and when he loses them he takes it as proof that he can’t _have_ nice things, can’t _be_ happy, when in reality if he’d just allowed it to happen then maybe… Maybe he could. 

Perhaps Jaskier had loved him. Perhaps he would have in time. Perhaps he simply would have been Geralt’s friend until he was swept away, as humans always are, by the sands of time. Now, Geralt will never know. He wishes that he could, but he knows that, after the things that he has said and done, he does not deserve it. Not anymore.

 _“Woke up afraid of my own shadow,”_ sings the voice that Geralt is convinced, more and more as time passes, is actually Jaskier. _“I mean, like, genuinely afraid. Headed for the pawnshop to buy myself a small blade.”_

He sounds more frantic, intense. His emotions pierce through Geralt’s chest like a sword, and the witcher has to take a breath to calm himself. He has never heard Jaskier sound like this before, never heard him this upset in this way. 

There are creatures that can manifest as shadow, and Geralt wonders if Jaskier had found himself haunted by a hym. Hyms do not attack their victims, at least, not conventionally. They feed off of guilt and fear. Is Jaskier guilty because he believes that he is truly the cause of all of Geralt’s misfortune? Or perhaps he is guilty because he believes that _Geralt_ believes it, whether it’s true or not? If he does carry this guilt with him, then it is Geralt’s fault, and there is no getting around that. 

Perhaps, though, he is guilty about something else — a marriage broken up, an affair ended poorly, a scorned lover taking their own life. Perhaps it is not guilt, but fear. It could be the fear of being suddenly alone after more than half his life spent in the company of a witcher, someone competent with a sword, someone who has always been there to protect. 

That makes sense — after all, Jaskier is far more competent than he seems, and far more competent than Geralt has ever outwardly given him credit for. He can set up their campsite quickly and efficiently, is good at building a fire, can even build and set traps fairly well. He has decent survival skills, and isn’t too bad with a dagger when in a pinch. However, despite his hidden capability, he has spent more than half of his life on the road with a witcher. He has seen the worst the world has to offer, the darkest parts of humanity, the most dangerous men and monsters alike. He knows what is out there, and though he can take on a drunk in a bar or outwit a bandit or two, Jaskier surely knows that there are far worse things lurking in the shadows.

It would explain why he would buy himself a new blade — a knife or dagger that is easily concealed, to protect himself now that Geralt cannot. It would explain the terror in his voice, a sound that Geralt would never in a million fucking years have associated with his bard. It would explain it all, but it would not make him feel anything but terrible about it.

Geralt is nearly to the source of the voice now. His silver sword is still in his hand, just in case, but if it is Jaskier then they can laugh about it afterwards. After all, Jaskier has never been afraid of him — and even if, by some strange chance, he was, the silver blade is not for humans, and Jaskier _knows_ this. Perhaps — well, best case scenario, Jaskier sees Geralt come in with his silver sword in hand and is shocked out of the strange emotional state he is currently in. Then, they talk, Geralt apologises, Jaskier may or may not forgive him but he allows Geralt to take him along again, to keep him _safe_ , to prove that he was a fool and will be a fool no longer.

Only, suddenly, Geralt smells blood.

 _“And the girl behind the counter, she asks me how I feel today. I feel like—”_ Jaskier cuts off, eyes wide as he sees Geralt rush in with his blade drawn. “G-Geralt?”

The witcher immediately takes in his surroundings. Jaskier is alone, has not been attacked, but he looks the worse for wear. The bard is horribly pale, his eyes ringed with grey. He shakes slightly, weak, pained. 

And the blood — it is coming from the bard, but he has not been attacked by man or beast. No, the culprit is the knife in the bard’s own trembling hand.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes, sounding choked-off. “Why…?”

“Geralt,” he says again. Now that he isn’t surprised, he just sounds… resigned. He eyes the blade still in Geralt’s hand with a look of… of sadness, of resignation, of finality. “I suppose I should have expected this.”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt asks. “What are you doing?”

Jaskier shrugs, only a slight movement of his shoulders. “Making it easy for you.”

Geralt sort of puts two and two together. He had hoped that Jaskier would know the difference between his blades, would know that he isn’t here to hurt him, but that was clearly foolish. It is dark in here, after all, perhaps too dark for a human. Geralt frowns, sheathes his sword. “I don’t kill humans,” he says. 

He knows it isn’t the right thing to say — there is so much more to say, so much that he can’t express because he’s… he’s scared, and confused, and he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. So he falls back to what he’s used to, the same explanation he gives any time someone is afraid of him when they shouldn’t be, any time someone mistakes him for a common hitman. 

“I know,” says Jaskier. “There can’t be a contract on me, I’m sure. Still, I hadn’t… I’d sort of hoped it would be someone else. At the same time, I’m glad I get to see you. I know you don’t want to see me, but… well, now you’ll know, won’t you? That this will be the last time you have to see me?”

Suddenly, Geralt’s blood feels as though it’s turned to ice in his veins. It’s as if a bottomless pit has opened itself up in his stomach, dragging his heart down into it. Jaskier thinks Geralt is here to kill him. To get rid of him. 

It has been a long time since Geralt has cried. He can’t even remember the last time his eyes filled with tears. But now… now, if he still could, he knows that they would spill out of his yellow eyes and roll freely down his cheeks. 

“You really think I would… Jaskier, I…” He doesn’t know what to _say_. All the time the bard spent telling Geralt that he isn’t the monster everyone believes him to be, and now… it seems as though Jaskier finally believes that he is, too. 

“Geralt,” the bard whispers. Geralt hears it, of course he does, though even he has a hard time believing that he can hear it over the pounding of his heart in his ears. “I don’t blame you. I know you have to. I want it, it’s okay.”

Perhaps it’s a terrible idea. He knows that Vesemir would kick the shit out of him if he ever heard about this. He doesn’t care, though — Geralt shrugs off his swords, letting them fall to the ground — blades, sheaths, belts, all of it. He strides towards the bard and kneels in front of him, unarmed save for the daggers in his boots that he wouldn’t dare reach for. 

“I would _never_ ,” Geralt growls, low in his throat. “I’ve already hurt you enough, Jaskier.”

“I am hurting,” the bard answers. “I don’t want you to hurt me, Geralt, I want you to make it _stop_.”

The witcher shakes his head. “No. I can’t lose you again. I’m too selfish. It seems you’ve indulged me too much.”

Jaskier barks out a wet laugh. “I can’t keep living like this,” he says after a moment, wiping the moisture from his eyes. It does nothing to stem the flow of tears, but he has at least given a valiant effort. “I can’t be this— this thing I’ve become.”

It is then that it hits Geralt: Jaskier has _changed_. 

There is no way a human would survive the blood loss that Jaskier has just experienced. There is no way a human’s cuts would have healed already, the way that Jaskier’s have. It is then that he smells the telltale stench of death, and turns his head towards it. 

Two dead Nilfgaardians lie in a heap on the other side of the cave, bloodless and rotting. How had he not noticed them before?

That’s a stupid question, of course. He hadn’t noticed because he was so focused on Jaskier. It’s an almost alarmingly common theme in his life, as of late. 

“Do you understand?” Jaskier asks as Geralt stares at the bodies. “Do you understand why I… why you have to…”

“No,” Geralt says immediately. 

Jaskier is a vampire. 

It doesn’t matter.

Without sparing a thought to the consequences, Geralt pulls Jaskier into a tight hug. Well, he had considered the consequences, it’s just that he doesn’t give a fuck. Jaskier won’t hurt him. Jaskier wants to die — wants Geralt to kill him. And Geralt knows that to kill a higher vampire, one must destroy them completely — and even then, if what’s left of them is found by another higher vampire that is determined enough, they could simply bring them back. Death is, perhaps only for Jaskier’s kind, not a guarantee. It must be horrifying, to realise that there is no way out, to feel trapped in a way that is so unnatural as immortality. 

Geralt doesn’t care, though. He cares that Jaskier is hurting, of course, but he does not care what he has become. He does not care that Jaskier isn’t human, he doesn’t give a single fuck. 

“I need you,” Geralt says simply, as Jaskier, against his better judgment, melts into the hug. “I was so afraid of needing you that I pushed you away, but it was already too late. I was an idiot, and you didn’t deserve… you are not the source of all the bad things in my life. You are the greatest source of good. I was selfish trying to push you away and now I am going to be selfish by insisting on keeping you around.”

“I’m a monster,” Jaskier sobs into his shoulder. “You kill monsters. Please, Geralt.”

“I kill monsters,” Geralt agrees, “not poets.”

“I can’t live like this.”

“You can. It will take some time to adjust, but you _can_. I have friends who can help you. You aren’t the only higher vampire I’m acquainted with, after all,” answers the witcher gently.

Jaskier pulls back enough to look into Geralt’s eyes, his own wide with shock and the barest spark of hope. “You mean…” He swallows, apparently unsure of what he wants to ask.

So, for once, Geralt is the one that keeps the conversation going. “You can’t be human again, but you can learn to live amongst other people again, like Regis does. You can… you can stay with me, if you’d like. If you’d have me.”

“Why help me?” Jaskier asks. “I— you wanted rid of me.”

Again, Geralt shakes his head. “I didn’t. I was afraid of the way I felt. I latched onto Yen because she was _safe_ , I wouldn’t put her in danger, she wasn’t _mortal_. I thought I could chase away the things I was feeling for you before it got too— too far, too much. By time I knew to try, it was already too late.”

Jaskier is staring at him like Geralt has just gotten up and danced a jig. “You— please, don’t do this,” he whispers. “Don’t say things you don’t mean because it’s what I want to hear, because you— you feel bad, or you don’t want me to… I can’t take it, Geralt. Don’t say things like this when you don’t _mean_ them.”

“I’m not,” answers the witcher. “I do mean them. It’s selfish to admit, but I’m always selfish to a fault when it comes to you.”

Jaskier’s hands are trembling harder than ever where they rest on Geralt’s shoulders. “You’d… love me? Like this?”

“I’d love you no matter what you are.”

As soon as he admits it, as soon as he opens those emotional floodgates, they’re kissing. Jaskier’s lips are on his and sharp fangs scrape his lips and tongue and he knows, he _knows_ that it’s going to be rough from here on, for a while at least. He knows that whatever Jaskier decides, it’s going to be difficult for him to get over what he’s gone through, what he’s become. 

It is not easy, to go from being a human to being something _other_. Geralt knows this from personal experience. In his opinion, that makes him the most qualified to help Jaskier through it. 

They’ll need to get Jaskier’s strength back, first and foremost. They’ll need to leave this cave. They’ll need to talk, and talk, and _talk_ about so many things that are uncomfortable and painful and difficult and he doesn’t _care_ because Jaskier is worth it. No, he’s so much _more_ than worth it.

Geralt will probably always blame himself for Jaskier’s pain. Jaskier will probably never fully get over it. They are both going to be a fucking mess for a good, long time.

Then again, they always have been a bit of a mess together.


End file.
